


Missing Signals

by honooko



Category: VIXX
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2017-12-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 15:52:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13011093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honooko/pseuds/honooko
Summary: Taekwoon is a bit dense when it comes to Hakyeon; the kids try to help him understand.





	Missing Signals

**Author's Note:**

> This is just fluff. I had it mostly done literally months ago but then Taekwoon got sick and I was too sad to work on it. But he's better now, so I finished it!

Taekwoon hadn’t meant to reject him.

It had been so quiet, so careful, he didn’t even know what was going on until it was over, and when he did, he couldn’t stop feeling like everything was wrong.

 

In the beginning, Hakyeon spent so much time with him Taekwoon more-than-half expected it to turn out to be a joke, or a “mission” of some kind. Sure, Taekwoon had friends, but people rarely sought him out, probably because it was like having a conversation with a semi-attentive wall. It wasn’t like he _never_ laughed or smiled, but he did it so rarely, it was easy to believe that he never did.

“Sanghyuk!” someone called from across the room. The boy glanced in Taekwoon’s direction before clearly and deliberately plotting a path around him. 

He did feel a bit bad about Sanghyuk. The kid clearly found him terrifying, and despite everyone’s best efforts, Taekwoon couldn’t comfortably warm up to him in the short periods of time when they were forced to be together. He didn’t _dislike_ Sanghyuk, he just didn’t really see the point in making them be “friends.” They were years apart, had no similar hobbies (to his knowledge) and while Sanghyuk could be described as friendly, Taekwoon had no such reputation.

Hakyeon, by comparison, was friends with literally everyone. He knew everyone’s names, knew where they lived or had grown up, knew their likes, dislikes, hobbies, dreams, fears—Hakyeon was just so easy to talk to. He listened so carefully, so warmly, so free of judgment. His single fault, in Taekwoon’s eyes, was his _unrelenting need_ to fuss over people he’d decided needed to be looked after. This overbearing mother hen of a boy who knew everyone’s secrets also seemed to think that his presence was the cure to all ills. Having a bad day? Hakyeon will hug you. Sleep badly? Hakyeon will hug you. Not particularly hungry? Hugging. 

For Taekwoon, whose face was perpetually in an expression most often read as “pissed” (when really it was just neutral, sleepy, or spacing out) Hakyeon felt the need to hug him a _lot_ more than Taekwoon wanted to be hugged. This resulted in him occasionally fleeing the room when Hakyeon made eye contact, or attempting to squirm free of Hakyeon’s cloying embrace, with mixed success.

For one thing, Hakyeon was deceptively strong.

“Taekwoonie,” he said, forearms locked around Taekwoon’s chest from behind, “It’s like you don’t even like me.”

“I don’t,” Taekwoon mumbled, hoping to be set free. Instead, Hakyeon pressed his face between Taekwoon’s shoulder blades.

“Why not?” he said, even as Taekwoon was struggling in his iron hold. “I’m so likeable.”

“I can’t breathe,” Taekwoon said, shifting tactics. He even added a whimper. Hakyeon sighed, but he let go, which Taekwoon counted as a win. For some reason, Hakyeon reached out again; Taekwoon ducked, but Hakyeon wasn’t trying to hug him.

Hakyeon was petting him. Well, Hakyeon was fussing with Taekwoon’s hair, adjusting pieces and finger-combing the back. Sometimes his nails would scratch lightly against Taekwoon’s scalp, or brush against his ears; a shiver ran down his spine, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Taekwoon was pretty sure he didn’t hate it though, so he just sat quietly and let Hakyeon do whatever it was Hakyeon was doing. When Hakyeon walked away later, Taekwoon was surprised that he felt ever so slightly sad.

He realized abruptly that Jaehwan had been standing fairly close by; he frowned at Taekwoon in a way that pissed him off a little bit. It was one of two ways with Jaehwan: either he was being funny, or he was being annoying, and the line was quite narrow. 

“He’s right you know,” Jaehwan said. “He’s super likeable. Everyone likes him eventually.”

“I won’t,” Taekwoon insisted stubbornly. Jaehwan gingerly patted his head.

“You will,” he said in a sing-song tone, swishing away to harass someone else. Taekwoon rubbed his head and scowled.

 

“Let’s negotiate,” Hakyeon said a few days later, trapping Taekwoon on a sofa by clinging to his arm so hard that resisting might result in a dislocated shoulder.

“Let’s not?” Taekwoon said, wanting to hide. Hakyeon’s hand came up to fuss with his hair, and despite everything, Taekwoon couldn’t quite hold back the pleased sigh that escaped his chest. It was embarrassing, especially because Hakyeon clearly noticed. Taekwoon felt himself blushing. He wondered if the sofa cushions were deep enough to hide under.

“You don’t mind this,” Hakyeon observed, scratching gently at the back of Taekwoon’s head. He worked his way up Taekwoon’s scalp, taking his time. It was so nice, so _good_ , Taekwoon didn’t notice his arm had been released. Hakyeon put his hands on the sides of Taekwoon’s neck, and pushed his thumbs up the base Taekwoon’s skull. No, he didn’t mind this. Not at all.

“I can get away from you,” Taekwoon murmured, eyes closed. Hakyeon laughed.

“You’re not even trying to now, though.”

“This is okay,” Taekwoon said with a huff. Hakyeon laughed again, but this time it was close enough for his breath to ghost across Taekwoon’s skin. Goosebumps rose across his arms and he shivered. He both wanted it to stop, and wanted it to go on forever; he leaned his head back into Hakyeon’s hands.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Hakyeon murmured in his ear, and maybe Taekwoon should have realized right in that moment that he was utterly doomed.

 

For some reason, when anyone got sick, even if was just the tiniest of sniffles, Hakyeon _knew._ He would hunt you down with tea and crackers and cold medicine and he would make you get in bed and _stay there._

Taekwoon got mildly sick fairly easily; he just seemed to be prone to colds and flus, and he was used to ignoring them and feeling like shit for the better part of a week. If it was particularly bad, he’d just hide. Hiding usually worked.

The first time he was legitimately ill in the dorm, Hakyeon sensed it like some sort of bizarre scent hound. Taekwoon had been quietly lying on the floor of the bathroom, having failed to purge his body of whatever was poisoning him and praying for the sweet release of death, when Hakyeon slammed the door open and flooded the room with light.

“Nope,” Hakyeon said, crouching down. He ran one hand over Taekwoon’s hair, before forcing him to sit up. “Nope, nope, nope.”

“Nope what?” Taekwoon croaked. His throat was so dry talking felt like eating sand.

“Nope, nobody is dying on my watch,” Hakyeon explained, putting a palm on Taekwoon’s forehead. It must have been hot, because he cursed in a combination of words that Taekwoon had never heard before. Taekwoon squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was about to get beat or not. There was no _rule_ about being sick around Hakyeon, but it was _implied_ , and injury had not necessarily protected anyone from getting smacked by their leader in the past. If anything, he just became more precise with where he hit you.

“Can you stand?” Hakyeon asked him with a surprising amount of gentleness. Taekwoon considered it; he couldn’t remember if he was lying on the floor because it made sense to die on the floor, or if he fell down. Experimentally, he extended his legs and found them a bit numb, but otherwise in working order.

“Yes,” he said, attempting to get up. Hakyeon grabbed him, slinging Taekwoon’s arm over his shoulder and steered him out of the bathroom. Taekwoon looked at it over his shoulder with a sense of unease.

“I might need to go back there,” he informed Hakyeon.

“Don’t be stupid,” Hakyeon said, still oddly gentle. “We’ll just get you a bucket.”

Taekwoon was about to argue, but any protest died when Hakyeon basically man-handled him into his room. Taekwoon fell face-first into Hakyeon’s extraordinarily comfortable bed; the scent of lavender and vanilla wafted around him pleasantly as he turned on his back. Hakyeon was adjusting blankets and sheets around him, tucking him in.

Hakyeon stood up, and Taekwoon’s hand shot out to grab his wrist.

 _Where will you sleep?_ he meant to ask, but “Where are you going?” came out instead, sounding a lot more needy than he expected. Hakyeon sat down on the mattress, leaning over Taekwoon and brushing his bangs out of his face.

“I have to get you medicine, tea, a bucket, and a compress,” he explained. “Then I’ll be on the sofa so you can call me if you need me.”

“My throat hurts,” Taekwoon whined at him. “I can’t call that far.”

It was an extremely flimsy excuse that he fully expected Hakyeon to reject. Instead, something in his face softened even more. The fingers brushing away his hair were lingering on his face.

“I’ll get everything and come back,” Hakyeon promised. In the time it took to prepare his materials, Taekwoon had managed to locate a clock in the room; he was surprised to see it was past one in the morning. Surely Hakyeon had been asleep before now?

“Why are you awake?” Taekwoon asked him as soon as he returned. Hakyeon set the cup of tea on the night table, popping cold medicine tablets from their packaging before handing them to Taekwoon.

“You’re sick,” Hakyeon said as if that explained it. Even feverish, Taekwoon felt that it did not, in fact, explain anything at all. Hakyeon helped him sit up and take the medicine, then tucked him back in again. Sensing a departure, Taekwoon reached out; his hand moved up Hakyeon’s jaw, his fingers resting on the back of Hakyeon’s neck. He wasn’t sure what he was hoping to achieve with the gesture, only that it felt... right, somehow. For a heartbeat, Hakyeon froze.

Then his hand was resting warmly on Taekwoon’s, holding him in place, and Taekwoon wanted—

Hakyeon leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead, once—and then a second time when Taekwoon’s fingers curled against his neck.

“Sleep,” he ordered gently.

“No,” Taekwoon said stubbornly, even as his eyes closed. He couldn’t be sure, but he could have sworn that Hakyeon kissed him, one more time. His forehead burned where he remembered Hakyeon’s lips.

 

Rehearsal dragged long that day. Everyone had one step out of many they couldn’t quite nail, and it was a different step for each of them. Stopping, starting, stopping, starting—frustrations had built quickly, and water breaks increased as the day went on. Hakyeon was moving from member to member, putting his warm hand on shoulders, stroking through sweaty hair, hugging when arms reached out for him. He was their anchor, their comfort, and their heart.

For Taekwoon, he was so much more than that. It was a recent clarification of an old feeling.

Wonshik, surprisingly, seemed to be dealing with it the worst for a while, repeating the same error over and over again until it looked like the choreographer was about to strangle him. Each time, Wonshik took off his hat, ran a hand through his hair, and put the hat back on. It seemed like a weirdly vain gesture until Hakyeon pointed out to him that Wonshik’s face changed; each time, whatever expression he’d had before was reset back to neutral. He was pushing through. The most reliable dongsaeng, that’s what Hakyeon had called him.

Then Taekwoon felt himself starting to droop. It wasn’t even that he was tired, or hungry—it just felt like they’d stalled completely, and no matter how long or how many times, they couldn’t get it right. After another water break was called, Taekwoon slumped down against the wall with his water bottle and watched Wonshik with a careful eye; sometimes he got the feeling that kid needed looking after more than anyone thought.

“Hey,” Hakyeon said, sitting next to him on the floor. He had a handful of rice crackers that he carefully unwrapped and gave to Taekwoon one-by-one. Their shoulders were brushing, which was more contact than Taekwoon usually liked in a hot practice room, but he was feeling the pull of exhaustion and leaning against Hakyeon felt so _nice_ sometimes. His eyes closed as he tried to hold on to this brief moment of peace.

“I think we’ll wrap up soon,” Hakyeon said against his hair. “We’re all hitting our limits for today.” Taekwoon said nothing, but he gave a single nod to confirm he heard. Hakyeon chuckled and Taekwoon felt goosebumps on his arms. Sooner than he wanted, they were being called back to practice, and Hakyeon left. He had more people to soothe, after all.

Taekwoon wanted to say thank you, but he didn’t.

 

At home, they had their habits. Hongbin and Sanghyuk played games, Jaehwan watched movies, and Wonshik would disappear to his studio for hours. Hakyeon would plant himself on the sofa, a central location, to monitor the household at the same time as slowly, noticeably, falling asleep. More often than not, Jaehwan would join him, and it would be up to an equally-sleepy Taekwoon to nudge them both awake and towards beds. With Jaehwan, the bed he ended up in varied from day to day, but Hakyeon was predictable: his bed was the best bed. It had the nicest sheets, the softest blankets, and was pleasantly scented from the abundance of candles he had around the room. 

Sometimes Hakyeon would allow himself to be guided to his room, only to stop in the doorway and look at Taekwoon with an expression he couldn’t identify. It only took a few seconds to disappear, and he tried not to overanalyze it. If he did, he would get lost in daydreams where Hakyeon invited him in.

One night, when Hakyeon was particularly tired after an exceedingly long day, he twisted their fingers together and Taekwoon felt himself being dragged inside. He pried them apart with a sigh, wondering if Hakyeon had mistaken him for Jaehwan, serial bed hopper and cuddle addict. He didn’t wait to see the bloom of confusion on Hakyeon’s face when he realized he was holding on to Taekwoon, shuffling out to his own bed after a softly-murmured “good night.”

“Taekwoonie,” Hakyeon called, and he turned. 

They stared at each other, silent, waiting.

“Nevermind,” Hakyeon said. “Good night.”

 

He ran into Hongbin in the hallway. His eyes were narrowed in that way that he didn’t seem to entirely know he did, but definitely meant he was judging the shit out of Taekwoon. Judging your hyung seemed wildly inappropriate to Taekwoon, especially in the middle of the night, but before he could say anything, Hongbin voiced his concerns.

“Hyung, it wouldn’t hurt for you to just... take some initiative or something,” he said in that still-judging-you tone. “I mean. It’s his room.”

“I don’t sleep in his room,” Taekwoon pointed out.

“But you _could._ ”

“I have my own room.”

“...Hyung,” Hongbin said very, very sincerely. “You’re missing the point.”

Taekwoon stared at him.

“...You could sleep? In his bed? Together?” Hongbin said, making vague shooing movements with his hands. When Taekwoon failed to respond in any way whatsoever, he gave up with a sigh. He turned on his heel and marched back to his room; Wonshik poked his head out of his door just in time for Hongbin to throw his hands up in the air.

“I tried!” he declared loudly. “I really tried!” Wonshik put his hand on his face, and it sounded like Sanghyuk groaned.

These kids were all so noisy.

 

Backstage, after a win, they were jubilant. Jaehwan was crowing and jumped on Sanghyuk’s back to be gleefully galloped down the hallway. Hakyeon had cried, because Hakyeon always cried, and Taekwoon knew his own eyes were far from dry. It was these rare moments when he reached out for Hakyeon, needing someone to hold, someone to make it all feel real. Hakyeon always hugged him with as much as he was given, plus more.

He used to just lean, arms limp at his sides, less of a hug and more of a drape. But then he realized he liked the feeling of wrapping around, and the feeling of Hakyeon pulled against his chest. He liked being able to put his hand in the small of Hakyeon’s back and feel Hakyeon smiling against his cheek. 

Maybe he’d accidentally encouraged something he didn’t understand, because Hakyeon started reaching for him when Taekwoon wasn’t expecting it. He reached especially when he was unhappy, which made no sense whatsoever to Taekwoon. Hugs happened between them when they were happy. That was the context he understood. Why would Hakyeon reach for him like that when he wasn’t happy at all? 

Why was he the only one that seemed to be able to see when Hakyeon wasn’t happy, but hiding it?

“I’m sorry,” Hakyeon murmured into his shoulder. “Just—just for a minute?” 

_It’s fine. Take your time. Please tell me what’s wrong. How can I help?_

The words dried up on his tongue, so he just wrapped Hakyeon in his arms and hoped that would be enough. He would have offered so much more, if he had any reason to believe it would be accepted, but the chances of that were slim to none. It hurt, like a pinch in his heart that never quite let go, but being able to give Hakyeon this much was almost enough.

When Hakyeon let go and moved on, Sanghyuk grabbed Taekwoon by the elbow. He wasn’t smiling, and something in his grip felt... less than playful. He forced them both to sit on the sofa, where he just stared at Taekwoon for a while until Taekwoon felt the need to ask, “What?”

“You’re just going to let it go like that?” Sanghyuk said, jerking a thumb in the direction Hakyeon had disappeared to. “You’re not going to say anything?”

“What would I say?” Taekwoon answered, because honestly, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps his insecurity was more apparent on his face than he thought, because Sanghyuk released Taekwoon’s arm so he could press both of his palms over his own eyes.

“ _Hyung_ ,” he said, “You have to _talk to him._ ”

“Why?”

“Because—because something’s bugging him!” Sanghyuk said, pulling his hands away.

“You ask, then,” Taekwoon said. “You noticed.”

“He doesn’t want _me_ to ask,” Sanghyuk said as if this was incredibly obvious and well-known information. When Taekwoon failed to respond, Sanghyuk stood up.

“You know what?” he said. “Forget it. Everyone else was right. Do your best, hyung. Sooner rather than later. _Please_.”

Taekwoon stared at his retreating back, more confused than ever.

 

“Ah,” Hakyeon sighed over his banana milk one morning. Jaehwan was sleepily looking at his cereal, and Sanghyuk was eating so much it was as if he hadn’t eaten in years. Only Hongbin was peaceful at the table, toast perched effortlessly on a dainty hand; Wonshik was still dead unconscious in his bed. Everyone knew, because his snoring could be heard from outside the building. 

Hakyeon had been talking, but Taekwoon didn’t think he was supposed to be listening, because Hakyeon would have gotten his attention already if he was. Suddenly, a phrase jumped out, and Taekwoon realized it was directed at him. “It’s like you don’t like me at all, sometimes.”

Taekwoon looked up with a frown; that was a stupid thing to say.

“That’s stupid,” he said. “Of course I like you.”

_and, I_

Jaehwan choked on his cereal; Sanghyuk smacked his back with more force than was strictly necessary, but his gaze was glued on Hakyeon. Hongbin looked back and forth between them with wide, nervous eyes.

Hakyeon, strangely, had no immediate response to that; instead he sipped his milk gingerly. Now that Taekwoon was looking properly, Hakyeon’s face seemed a little flushed. He reached out a hand and placed in on Hakyeon’s forehead, mirroring the way Hakyeon had checked on him for years.

“Are you sick?” Taekwoon asked. Hakyeon felt a little warm, but he was always a bit warm when Taekwoon touched him. Warm, and ever so slightly electric. His palm was buzzing pleasantly.

“No,” Hakyeon said without attempting to move Taekwoon’s hand in any way. When it was withdrawn, he sighed. The table at large seemed to be holding its breath.

“Well,” Taekwoon said somewhat lamely, “Take care.”

The kids groaned collectively, and Taekwoon didn’t entirely know why.

 

Another backstage, another win, another hug—except something was a little different, because Taekwoon didn’t want to let go. Not now, not yet, not with Hakyeon smiling and crying and so _warm_. Wonshik bumped into them and their feet tangled together; Taekwoon got his hand out just in time to hit the wall before Hakyeon’s head did.

They were so close, and Hakyeon’s smile, his smile that Taekwoon got lost in, it was so perfect and wonderful—

Jaehwan shrieked with delight, and the sound broke through them. Hakyeon ducked out of Taekwoon’s arms and Taekwoon almost reached out to pull him back, but—

The moment was over.

 

“I’m _fine_ ,” Hakyeon insisted for what had to be the hundredth time. “Just a little hot—”

“You fell,” Hongbin said, the edges of his words brittle. Wonshik put a hand on his elbow, not saying anything, just quietly present. 

“I got up,” Hakyeon attempted, but this time Sanghyuk interrupted.

“Only because Taekwoon-hyung helped,” he pointed out sharply. “Otherwise we would have had to carry you.”

Hakyeon looked at Taekwoon in a manner that suggested he thought Taekwoon was going to be on his side. He was mistaken; Taekwoon’s heart was still pounding with the fear that had blown through him as he helped Hakyeon off the stage. They’d all been sick, sure. They’d all performed under less-than-optimal conditions. But usually, it was Hakyeon who kept the situation under control, addressing the audience calmly and making sure that appropriate actions were taken. He was the leader with a cool head. 

When Hakyeon hit the floor, and Hongbin pulled uselessly at his hand in an attempt to get him on his feet, Taekwoon realized that this was one of the rare moments when he had to step up to the role that Hakyeon left. He crossed the stage and heaved Hakyeon up, trying not to think about how little strength Hakyeon seemed to have, and how Taekwoon was, for now, responsible for everyone.

He’d done his best to be calm, reassuring, steady—to be Hakyeon, because Hakyeon couldn’t. It was incredibly hard to overcome the sick feeling in his gut and present a good face for the kids, but he knew they needed it, and Hakyeon needed him.

Now that Hakyeon was, according to him, okay, Taekwoon was having a hard time shaking that feeling. 

Jaehwan seemed to be afraid to even touch Hakyeon, having reached out a hand once or twice, only to withdraw it immediately. Taekwoon finally grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him in Hakyeon’s direction; the resulting succession of dongsaeng hugs, ginger but needy, clearly touched Hakyeon deeply because his eyes were wet when they finally all pulled away.

And then all four of those kids were staring at Taekwoon, _waiting._

Jaehwan grabbed his wrist and pointedly pushed him towards Hakyeon with a look on his face that convinced Taekwoon instantly that he knew _exactly_ what he was doing. But as much as Taekwoon wanted to reach out, to pull Hakyeon close, to—

He couldn’t. He wanted to, so much, _so much_ , but.

“Go to bed,” he told Hakyeon, refusing to be pushed. “I’ll bring you some tea.”

As he walked to the kitchen, he tried to forget the way Hakyeon’s eyes seemed ever so slightly disappointed. 

 

“You’re not sleeping yet,” Taekwoon observed as he brought in the tea. Hakyeon had his knees pulled up so he could rest his chin on them and look annoyed with the world. His hair was a bit messy in the front, so Taekwoon smoothed it out for him, waiting for Hakyeon’s excuse.

“You’re overreacting,” Hakyeon said at last. Taekwoon sat on the bed next to him, brushing his bangs out of his face in silence. It was probably true, but Hakyeon had scared them.

“You scared me,” Taekwoon said, noticing his slip as soon as it escaped. Hakyeon’s eyes snapped to him, searching, but Taekwoon refused to correct himself. His hand drifted down Hakyeon’s face, tracing the line of his jaw. Hakyeon leaned into the touch, his eyes closing. Taekwoon’s thumb brushed along his cheekbone and he _wanted._

Suddenly, they were much closer than Taekwoon thought, and Hakyeon’s eyes were open, and he was stretching that beautiful neck so he could—so they could—

Taekwoon panicked, jerking backwards. Hakyeon froze.

“No?” he whispered. Taekwoon stared, still panicking with his heart thundering in his chest, wanting, wanting, _wanting_ \--

“Oh,” Hakyeon said softly. “I see.”

_No, you don’t!_

He smiled at Taekwoon, but it was empty. 

“Thank you for the tea. I think I’ll try and get some rest now,” Hakyeon said, his voice even and light. It was a dismissal, and Taekwoon took it. He left the room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wood, waiting for his heartbeat to slow down.

Then, he heard:

“Stupid,” Hakyeon said. “I’m so stupid.”

Taekwoon slid to the floor, realizing suddenly how badly he had just fucked up. 

 

 

“Look,” Wonshik said when Taekwoon appeared in his doorway, “We’ve kind of all agreed not to help you this time.”

Taekwoon looked at him; Wonshik shrugged as Sanghyuk nodded firmly beside him, eyes glued on his laptop screen.

“If we help you, you’ll never learn, hyung,” he explained. “You’ve got to work this out yourself.”

“It’s not like it’ll be hard,” Jaehwan hollered from Hongbin’s room. Hongbin didn’t contribute to the conversation, but his judgment was emanating from the doorway regardless. “There’s a million things to say.”

“I can’t,” Taekwoon said abruptly, and everyone looked at him. He crouched down on the floor, hiding his face in his arms. “I can’t!”

“Hyung,” Wonshik said carefully, “Why not?”

“Because.”

“ _Can you be a little more specific please, hyung,_ ” Hongbin judged aggressively from his door.

“ _Because I love him,_ ” Taekwoon snapped back. 

He felt hands on his shoulders, forcing him to stand. Wonshik had his left arm, Hongbin had his right, and Sanghyuk gripped him around the chest from the back. Jaehwan put his hands on Taekwoon’s cheeks.

“ _So tell him that,_ ” Jaehwan insisted. “Because you two and your angst are _driving us insane_. And _don’t_ \--” he said, cutting Taekwoon off before he could interrupt, “break his heart more. You love him, hyung. Congratulations. We all love him. But _you love him most_.”

All four released him simultaneously, and for a moment Taekwoon wobbled on his feet.

“If you don’t go confess to him right this second, I am calling your mother and telling her what you did,” Jaehwan threatened. “ _Hyung._ ”

Taekwoon turned, but his feet wouldn’t move. He tried to force it; left, right, left, right, _something_ , but he stayed in place. He reached out a hand. Forward. He wanted to go forward, but—

“Help,” he said. “Please help?”

Four pairs of hands gave him a collective mighty shove in the direction of Hakyeon’s room; the momentum was enough to carry him forward, fumble with the doorknob, fling himself inside, and loudly slam it shut behind him, before pitching face-first into the bed.

“What the—”

Hakyeon was sitting up, and his eyes were—had he been crying? Was that what happened? Did Taekwoon—was it his fault that—why did he always fall short? Why was he always one step back, one hand off, one beat behind?

Why did he accidentally break Hakyeon’s heart, and why was he so afraid to try and fix it?

“I’m sorry,” he started, and Hakyeon looked like he was going to interrupt. Taekwoon knew if he stopped now, he’d never get there. “I’m sorry I’m bad at this. I’m bad at words, I’m bad at words with you, about you, and I love you but I’m bad at saying that too.” He took a deep breath, adding very, very softly. “I still do, though. Love you.”

There was a moment of total silence, and then Hakyeon was hugging him, pulling him down and not crying, exactly, but making frustrated noises against Taekwoon’s neck that Taekwoon identified with on a deep, primal level.

“It’s not that hard,” Hakyeon grumbled at him. “I love you. See? Try.”

“I love you.”

“Good. Now ‘I love you, Hakyeonnie.’”

“I love you, Hakyeon,” Taekwon said. “The most.”

Hakyeon was momentarily at a loss for words, before using his hold around Taekwoon’s neck to bring their faces so close he could feel the same buzz, the same nervous air that he’d spooked from before. He was so excited and so terrified at the same time, his hands were shaking.

The moment he kissed Hakyeon, he could have sworn the entire planet stopped spinning. Just a gentle brush against his lips was the most precious feeling he’d ever had. He wanted—needed—more, so he kissed Hakyeon again, and again, and again, each time staying a little longer, pushing a little more, testing and trying and marveling at how quickly his anxiety over the entire situation was just melting away. Then Hakyeon chuckled against his lips.

“Oh, I see,” he murmured low, sending flutters through Taekwoon’s chest. “So I can’t kiss you, but you can kiss me?”

“You can kiss me,” Taekwoon protested. 

Hakyeon kissed him, and Taekwoon forgot the world existed. He was so _much_. The taste of him, the texture of his lips, the way he moved his hand to the back of Taekwoon’s skull to grab his hair and _pull_ , just a little. Just enough. Then Hakyeon was kissing his jaw, his neck, using his hold to guide Taekwoon’s head where he wanted it to go. That was fine; that was wonderful. Taekwoon was more than happy to go there. Hakyeon pulled him back down, kissing him so deeply that Taekwoon gasped for air.

“ARE YOU HAVING SEX?” Jaehwan shouted through the door. “IF YOU’RE HAVING SEX, WE WANT TO COVER HYUKKIE’S EARS.”

“...Are we having sex?” Taekwoon asked, only mildly alarmed. He wasn’t _opposed_ to the idea, but it wasn’t what he’d thought he’d be doing on a Tuesday night. Not that he thought he’d be doing this either, but.

“Do you want to have sex?” Hakyeon asked him.

“SORRY,” Jaehwan shouted again, “COULD WE GET A YES OR NO OUT HERE PLEASE?”

“YES, WE’RE HAVING SEX!” Hakyeon shouted back. “GO AWAY!”

“WE’D CHEER FOR YOU BUT THAT’S GROSS,” Jaewhan said. “HAVE FUN!”

“Don’t get pregnant, hyung!” Sanghyuk called through the door. “I don’t want a baby brother or sister!”

“Our kids,” Hakyeon started.

“Are the _absolute worst_ ,” Taekwoon finished with exceptional bitterness. Hakyeon laughed, pressing his lips against Taekwoon’s forehead.

“So about that sex...” he said softly, just a breath. “Are we—"

“We’re not,” Taekwoon said firmly. “You need to rest.”

“If... If I wasn’t tired, would you...”

“Yes,” Taekwoon said softly, immediately, “Of course.” Of course he’d want to press them together, taste Hakyeon’s skin, trace his edges with his fingers, watch him arch and gasp with every reverent touch—he’d lose himself in Hakyeon and he was almost embarrassed how much he _wanted_.

“So maybe some other time, we could...?”

A curt nod. Hakyeon’s fingers were in his hair again, doing that wonderful, magical thing against his scalp. Even if he didn’t totally know what was going to happen, even if he was worried about whether or not he could be what Hakyeon deserved, he still believed that Hakyeon would be there, watching him, ready. 

As soon as the words “watching him” floated through his mind, Taekwoon felt a mighty blush blooming across his face. He ducked his head, hoping to hide it, but Hakyeon would have none of it. He used his grip on Taekwoon’s hair to pull it up again.

“Don’t do that,” he scolded softly. “You know I like seeing you.”

Taekwoon didn’t have a good reply for that, so instead he settled for just kissing Hakyeon again, deeper, hoping to communicate the burning want in his body through their lips. Hakyeon’s hold loosened so that he could drag his fingertips slowly down Taekwoon’s burning cheeks, smiling into the kiss. His hand continued down Taekwoon’s neck, drawing him closer, lying back in his bed so Taekwoon would have to lean over him. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, so Taekwoon just climbed into the bed and knelt over him, before considering that was a pretty bold move, especially considering Hakyeon’s health condition.

“It’s fine,” Hakyeon said just before Taekwoon could apologize. “I told you, don’t worry.”

“I _am_ worried,” Taekwoon said, dropping his forehead to Hakyeon’s shoulder. He just needed a moment, a second to breathe, to remember what was and was not a good idea to agree to, under the circumstances. Hakyeon wrapped his arms around Taekwoon in the hug that he’d been waiting for before. He realized, suddenly, that more than anything else he just wanted to hold Hakyeon in his arms and reassure himself that everything was really, honestly okay.

Taekwoon rolled onto his side, throwing his arm over Hakyeon’s waist. Hakyeon immediately curled up, facing him, tangling their legs together.

“Tell me what I can do,” he said, tightening his hold on Hakyeon just a little more.

“This is good,” Hakyeon said quietly, reaching out to push Taekwoon’s bangs off his face. “I like this.”

“Does it help?” Taekwoon asked, unsure. Hakyeon smiled at him, running his fingers down Taekwoon’s cheek.

“You always help,” he said sweetly, and Taekwoon felt his heart squeeze. He still felt like he should be doing more, somehow, but if Hakyeon said this was the best...

Well, he could at least do this.

“Should I stay?”

Hakyeon didn’t say anything; his hand dropped away. For a moment, Taekwoon thought he was about to be kicked out.

“Will you?” Hakyeon asked very quietly, exhaustion edging into his voice. Taekwoon sat up, pulling at the blankets they’d somewhat kicked out of the way until he could bring them up and over Hakyeon—and himself.

“Yes,” Taekwoon said, putting his arm around Hakyeon’s waist again. “Sleep.” Hakyeon curled more, tucking his head under Taekwoon’s chin and letting out a sigh; as he exhaled, Taekwoon felt any remaining tension in Hakyeon’s body releasing.

“Don’t leave,” Hakyeon murmured against his collarbones. “Just stay.”

Taekwoon kissed the top of his head.

“Sleep,” he said again. “I’ll be right here.”

Hakyeon finally drifted off, warm and relaxed in Taekwoon’s arms, and for the first time in a long time, Taekwoon felt like he’d _finally_ done something _right._


End file.
